Journey of the Heart

As I observed her I made judgments about her … The exotic-looking, young European woman, who was chanting the Bhakti maha-mantra, grabbed my full attention. Looking at her, I noticed myself making judgments about what I perceived her worldview was, as if I knew something about life she didn't! I intentionally stopped that line of thinking and prayed that all of her spiritual aspirations be realized. Seeing my prejudiced and miserly thinking, my prayer became deeper and I wished this -not just for her- but for everyone in the world. I wished that we all soar spiritually regardless of what containers hold our spirits, and without being distracted by those of others.  Photographic art: 'Don't Tell Me I'm Dying' by Gabrielle Shamon Delicate Thick kajal outlines her eyes bold-black white-skin features fade behind those haunting eyes hang in space long after she leaves walks fast a circular path, chants genie pants billowin...

This poem means a lot to me because it reminds us to rise above the conception that we are limited to just our bodies... Photography by Gregory Colbert I was born with a physically deformed body and many times people would give me a hard time because of it, and forget that I have feelings like everyone else. As I wrote this poem in Sri Vrindavan dham, India, I had a very deep feeling in my heart, that maybe my poetry can illuminate the message of Bhagavad gita to others: that we are all beautiful parts of the Supreme Divine.      This poem is based upon Chapter 18, verses 20-22 of the Bhagavad-gita As It Is t ranslated by His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada where Lord Krishna explains to His devotee and intimate friend, Arjuna, the different types of knowledge. It appears in my poetry book 'Lotus Lyrics'.   One of the first and main points that the Gita elucidates is that we are not these bodies, but eternal ...

           I love poetry and art! Painting by Arna Baartz They are the two ways I get to express the deep, abiding knowingness that we are all one:  One creature pulsing to the music of the universe, participating in a story of individuality and separation. My poem 'winged secret' is a remembering of our oneness, an exploration into the connection between the physical and the spiritual... the reminder in fact that the two things are not separate at all. Thank you for reading and welcoming my art! Painting by Arna Baartz  Winged Secret Artwork by Arna Baartz it is beating in me this winged secret this blue gold illusion pulsing a no time mathematics spreading like jasmine oil flowing musical de vivre de joi I AM earth nuzzled and heaven bound coiled with mystical sound sweet sensuality and forever revolving dissolving.... Art by Arna Baartz Ar...

Grief to me is personal and yet poetry gives me a way to share it… By sharing with you through the transcendent medium of poetic lyric and image -where meaning meets me where I least expect-, the deeply personal gives me more me! This piece was written a few years ago and yet it holds now on the edge of the evening. Sadness is always close to me.  One of my teachers told me my beauty rests in how I hold my sadness because it is so much a part of me. And yet even more so today, years later, I find what holds me is the grace I find within the poem: the way I can graze what aches in my heart and yet find its release in my hands, as if each prayer held a bird learning to flap its wings and as my hands open, take flight. Grief   Like a cricket’s legs, sadness Waxes on the wings On my back few can see As they are rays Of light holding shadows As if shade from a tree Where I find quiet, a reprieve From the s...

There are moments when we stand almost suspended in time… … when we hold a silken cord that binds us to the past and connects us to a time that lies ahead, as yet unseen.  Writing this poem was such a moment, as memory rushed in, of a time of quiet, pure sweetness one ordinary afternoon that imprinted itself on my heart, making that afternoon something far more than ordinary.    The love that floated between us, like the steam rising from our hot chocolates, traveled the years, transforming with each place it touched.  And now when that love is a gift to someone else, there is the silken cord, each fiber spun and strengthened by love, that I still hold. First Date You don’t remember our first date but I do, you in that kelly cabled sweater that made your hazel eyes as green as new clover. We stroll through town, find ourselves at the corner European patisserie nearly empty at this hour. Acros...

  The poem, The Gardener, came to me during a meditation… For years - for decades really - I was searching. I was looking for answers to what I had lived through. I wanted to make sense out of tragedy. When I stopped looking for answers outside of myself, when I stopped grasping, and when I finally listened to how my Spirit was speaking to me through a body that shut down, the healing finally began. This poem speaks to the importance of tending to the garden of our soul and taking time to go within. There is sorrow in life. The tears that fall are not in vain, but are there to water the seeds of transformation so we can grow into the fullness of our Being.  Pain is our greatest teacher if we use it to help us to awaken and blossom as the beautiful flowers our Divine Creator intended us to be. When we align with the Love of Source, weed our garden from thoughts that separate us from that Love, our hearts open and we turn our faces to the sun becoming...